Time called,
it wants its watch back.
So too did love,
it wants its fake relationship back.
Literature left a message for you,
the book you stole should be returned.
Oh! You’ve just missed music,
it said that album you murdered is pressing charges.
Time called again,
just to make sure you got the message.
Check the machine,
there’s one from Platform Eight.
Bonfire night 2011 just hung-up,
it wants you to know never to return.
An email just came through,
from that film we knew every line too.
What was that,
you use people?
Oh! Politeness dropped by,
he said he’d like to slam every door he ever opened for you
back into your face.
Wait a second,
I’ll put him through-
it’s time, he wants to speak to you-

during my worst times
on the park benches
in the jails
or living with
******
I always had this certain
contentment-
I wouldn't call it
happiness-
it was more of an inner
balance
that settled for
whatever was occuring
and it helped in the
factories
and when relationships
went wrong
with the
girls.
it helped
through the
wars and the
hangovers
the backalley fights
the
hospitals.
to awaken in a cheap room
in a strange city and
pull up the shade-
this was the craziest kind of
contentment

and to walk across the floor
to an old dresser with a
cracked mirror-
see myself, ugly,
grinning at it all.
what matters most is
how well you
walk through the
fire.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

My timing is almost as perfect
as the broken glass
that lines my cracked feet
tired from walking
running, leaving
It'll be worth it
But my timing is almost
as good as that lie
that spoils my tongue
tired from saying,
"It's a big change. I'll
be                        fine."

Gorgeous girls never flock to me
with my goofy grin and icy feet
Sure some pretty ones come
and talk to me
But I look inside and what
do I see?
Emptiness, some worries about
what people think and a thick
vein of vanity

Don't get me wrong, smooth skin
is nice and makes me think
of giving in, but where's the
beauty of a wrinkled brain?
Where is the darling charm
that comes from thinking?
Give me crows feet from years
of laughing
maybe some scars for kissing
and a stubborn idea or two
to keep me guessing

Because flawless hair is nothing
compared to a flawed but thoughtful
mind
and big chested, large rear-ended
doesn't have scratch on imaginative
and inventive
**** walks combined with hips
can't hold a match to intelligent words
pouring from chapped lips

So here's to hoping that
sometime soon, I'll get the chance
to stumble and fall into a
wrinkled brain romance

eyes clear, mind fogged
I drift in and out
of reach
warm touch, I melt
an easy wall
to breach
I’m emotional, irrational
we intertwine
in lust
you call, wind batters
my words are specs
of dust
cheeks pressed, still quiet
I am learning now
to grow
it was empty, it was open
but I remember
let go

I gave away my coins today to those who liked their shine

knowing that the gold I need was nothing I could buy



Instead I'd find it in the sea, atop the folding waves

a blanket I'd be bundled in then kissed with sunny rays



I'm walking now in misty air and what I hear confirms

that time elapsed was not a waste, it helped me to return



To that which goes beyond the flesh, defines my only name

reminds me still, it's what I seek that in my life will reign

I soak you up
As If I could save you for later.
I know I won’t see you tomorrow,
And you look so handsome today.
The scruff on your neck
Leading the way down your unbuttoned chest
Your eyes all sparked up
From the brief spurts of sun
They all turn to stare out the steamed glass
But I remain fixated on those candle lit globes
You gaze out from behind them with utmost politeness
All white and glistening from withheld information
You smile as if it proved everything you feel
I ready myself for you, wishing for even just a whisper
But you only spit out those cliché fixes
So I make my way around again
I have number the last few visits we will have
And all I need is an answer, specifically, a yes.